


take a bite of my heart tonight.

by degenerateink



Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, John's an Omega, Rook's an Alpha, That's it, a/b/o dynamics, that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-10-05 01:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17315117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/degenerateink/pseuds/degenerateink
Summary: John's an omega.Rook's an alpha.I think we all know where this is going.





	take a bite of my heart tonight.

i. first impressions 

“Alpha, my beautiful alpha,” John whispers, like a prayer, his body trembling with the unadulterated want and need flooding through his veins.

“What... Where...?” She asks, voice slurred with confusion and bliss.

“You’re safe, darling. We’re in my ranch, where no one can disturb us. You have nothing to fear.”

John bites down on his tongue, hard enough to draw blood, when she shifts on his sofa, her scent rolling off in waves, making his mouth water and his pants tight.

“No, this... I... I can’t be your alpha.”

No. 

No, no, no. 

This is wrong.

This is all wrong. 

She is his alpha. His. He could feel it in his bones, his marrow, the second that helicopter touched the ground. 

For nearly twenty years, since the day he presented as an omega and was beaten mercilessly by his parents - accused not only of being tainted, but being weak, useless, pathetic - John thought he’d never find his alpha, his significant other, his better half to make proud, to give him purpose, to make him whole. 

“But you are. I’m your omega. We— we were made for each other. Can’t you feel it?”

He takes her hand, the rough callouses engraved in her palms and fingers sparking conflicting feelings within him - anger for the tribulations she’s endured, awe at the strength in these bones, lust for those fingertips to trail across his body, dig into his hips, carve into his back - and places it above his heart. 

She isn’t unaffected - he can tell by how her breath catches when their hands touch, how her throat works around a thick swallow as her fingers graze his chest, feeling the thundering heartbeat beneath the flesh. 

John himself isn’t doing much better, stifling a whine as her fingers trace his skin with a delicacy that leaves him breathless, aching.

He watches, transfixed, as the haze in her eyes shifts to something darker, hungry, the black of her pupils swallowing the topaz of her irises.

John has never so badly wanted to be devoured. 

“Rook? Rook, are you there?” 

Within seconds, the hunger fades and gives way to lucidity - tense and alert.

John hurls her radio against the wall, content as you please when plastic and wires explode in a show of cheap electronics, though he couldn’t contain his snarl at being interrupted when he’d just found his mate. 

The red clouding his vision blinds him to her escape.

John howls - furious, hurt, betrayed - as his alpha runs away, taking his men down with an efficacy that ought to be impressive and arousing, but only serves as fuel for a stoked flame.

ii. hook, line, sinker

A whole month passes before John is able to find her again. 

She’d wreaked havoc in Faith’s region — liberating outposts, destroying shrines, razing each and every bliss field to the soil, blowing up The Father’s statue with little more than an RPG and a few well-placed remote bombs, burning Faith’s bunker to hell, saving her precious sheriff and the rest of the scum holed up at the prison. 

She didn’t kill Faith.

She and her partner - John grits his teeth at the term, hissing at the idea of them together - are taking care of her, rehabilitating her, weaning her off The Bliss, slowly but surely mending the fissures of her mental and emotional health from the brainwashing and manipulation she endured from Joseph. 

That’s what’s churning in the Henbane’s radio frequency, anyway. 

She’s been a busy alpha, and though Joseph is distraught by the carnage she’s caused, Jacob outraged at the audacity she had, John is enraptured. 

When one of his men radios that she’s crossing The Henbane, heading into Jacob’s region, he nearly cracks his radio in half before demanding her capture, that every day she wasn’t with him would be excruciatingly painful for everyone involved.

Takes an unbelievable amount of Bliss bullets to take her down (she must’ve developed a tolerance after being in the region littered with the flowers for four weeks straight), but Rook’s brought to his ranch within a matter of hours. 

iii. jealousy

The disgusting scent of another omega burns in his nostrils, scalding like fire and ash.

“Who was it?” John snarls, baring his teeth ferociously, the idea of his alpha being worshipped, adored, laved by anyone but himself making his blood boil, his hackles rise.

“What?”

“I can smell them on you. Their stench is on your skin. Who tried to claim my alpha?”

“John, I’m not your—“

“How long are you going to deny this?!” He screams. 

“You are mine. Mine. Just as I am yours. Forever and always. We were made for each other.” 

He tears her clothes off - literally - slicing them into little more than strips of cloth and leather with sharp nicks of his blade, careful not to scrape her skin because he doesn’t want to hurt her - he will never hurt her - but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t frothing at the mouth at the opportunity to flay the wretched omega who threatened their relationship, their bond, their fate.

The Bliss makes Rook complacent, but there’s fight in her yet, fingers curling in the collar of his shirt, whether to steady herself or to warn him was up for debate.

“John.” 

He tenses, the muscles in his body going rigid because he recognizes this tone - the cadence of voice that prefaced a beating, a lashing, a punishment.

Rook does nothing of the sort. 

Because she isn’t one of the monsters from his past, but the angel of his present, the salvation of his future. 

“Alpha, please... Please let me cleanse you. I can’t... I can’t bear their scent mingled with yours. It’s destroying me.” 

His head is down, eyes closed as he awaits rejection, scoff or outright scorn. 

Instead, a weary sigh reaches his ears and a low, terse, “... All right.”

iv. temptation 

He couldn’t help himself in the shower.

John triggers a rut.

Oh, how he wants nothing more than to bond with his alpha, to forge their bond in flesh, for Rook to mark him, a visceral reminder to the world that he belonged to her and she to him.

“John, no.”

He cries. 

Legitimate tears pouring down his face, mingling with the water pouring from the shower-head, but he can feel them burning streaks down his cheeks because he could only handle rejection so many times before it ruined him.

“... Why, alpha? Why do you continuously reject me? Am I not good enough? Am I tainted? Why won’t you take me? Why won’t you make me yours? Why don’t you love me?!” 

“John... You deserve so much better.”

“... What?”

“I’ve done things. Terrible things. Things that make this uprising look like a playground squabble. I’ve tried to stay away - God, I’ve tried to stay away. But you don’t exactly make it easy.”

And it’s like the weight of the world has been eased off his shoulders, like sunlight has spilled into his chest, warmth flooding through his veins, relief lifting the despair from his bones.

“You... You want me...?”

“More than anything in this fucked-up world,” Rook laughs, choked and strained, her hands coming up to his face, cradling his cheeks with a tenderness he’s never felt in his life, brushing fat, heavy tears away with delicate swipes of her thumbs. 

•

“John, you aren’t listening—“

“Actually, if I heard right, you said you wanted me. And I’ve wanted you since the moment you walked into our church. 

You’ll never know the fear that coursed through my veins when your helicopter crashed. I begged God to save you, to protect you, to watch over you until I could find you, care for you, love you. I tried to listen to Joseph, to trust in God’s plan, to let you see reason by yourself. 

But I don’t think he realized how stubborn you are.”

“Dammit, John! Hold up one fucking second!” Rook hisses, snatching both of his distracting, nimble hands, flipping him over and pinning them to the bed with the ferocity he knows she’s capable of, that he’d wanted from the start, that he’s craved a taste of for weeks.

“... Rook?”

“John, you aren’t... I’m not... I can’t take you like this. Not right now. With the way... the way things are going, your brothers will see this as treason.”

The word ‘take’ has him salivating, his body reacting accordingly as all the blood rushes south, his pants tightening to the point of insanity because even after everything’s that happened, Rook’s thinking about his well-being, his family, his name.

She’s too good for him. 

John knows this — but he is a gluttonous, lusting, greedy man, and he has never wanted something so badly. 

Experimentally, he slowly - deliberately - grinds his hips against Rook’s, keening at the delicious friction, indulging in the strangled noise that it evokes, a combination of a growl and a moan that has John doing it again, again, again—

“John, please. Don’t know why you’re convinced that I’m a saint, but... Restraint has a breaking point.”

“Promise me,” he whispers into her throat, his nose brushing over her scenting gland, stifling a whine because he wants to bury his face here, inhale her scent so deeply that it’ll be all he can ever smell, leave marks, bruises and bites so that people know she’s spoken for, she has someone waiting for her at home, they couldn’t so much as look at her because she’s his.

And John would tear apart the soul that tried to break that bond.

“Promise you what?”

“That you’ll come back to me. I want you, Rook. I need you. I don’t deserve your kindness or thoughtfulness, but you give it to me regardless. Please... Just... Promise me.”

“I promise.”

•

When his heat comes, six weeks later — after Rook’s liberated Jacob’s region, striking-up a treaty between Jacob and Eli so that no more blood will be shed, people that join Jacob’s ranks must do so willingly, of their own volition, not because they’d been corrupted by Darwinism and Microsoft PowerPoint — it arrives with a vengeance, so strong that it buckles his knees, sends him crashing to the floor, crying out desperately because he needs her, he needs his alpha, he needs her right now. 

•

Just thinking about her spurs a wave of slick, coating his jeans, leaving them damp and sticky.

John hisses at the emptiness in his loins.

Even though he’s never taken suppressants, there’s something overwhelming about this heat.

Something electrifying. 

•

He climbs into Rook’s lap, his jeans dripping with slick, and he indulges in the sharp hiss he induces when he grinds their hips together.

“Please, alpha. Please, please, please—”

“Fuck, John — I’ve got you. Your alpha’s here. I’ll take care of you, sweetheart,” Rook coos, fingers falling to his jeans, swallowing a groan at the slick that’s seeped through the material.

“Who is this for, baby? Who were you thinking of? Who did this to you?” Rook’s voice is hushed against his ear, licking her lips at the shudder that echoes down his spine.

“You, Rook. Fuck. Was thinkin’ of you.” 

John’s answer wrenches another growl out of her, the sound alone enough to make him whine, for a fresh wave of slick to run down his thighs, but Rook’s unbuttoning his jeans (basically ripped off the button and broke the zipper, but he’s too far gone to despair over something as trivial as clothes, especially when they were such a hindrance in the first place) to wrap her fingers around him. 

A strange noise comes out of his mouth, something caught between a gasp, moan and cry.

“So wet for me, my gorgeous omega. I’m sorry for making you wait so long...” 

John shakes his head, tries to organize his thoughts, form words that would make intelligible sense, but then Rook’s tightening her fingers, fisting the base, loosening as she works her hand up, her thumb swiping at his leaking slit, and he keens.

“Fuck!” John’s voice is muffled into the fabric of her shirt, which is saturated in her scent, makes him want to suffocate in it.

“Such a filthy mouth... Do you have any idea how hard it is to think straight when you curse like that? When they sound like hymnals in your voice?” 

Rook works him through it, slow and delicious, fingers easing around him at a gratuitous pace, but he wants more, he wants everything she has to give, he wants her to tear him apart.

When John spills over the edge, he goes boneless against Rook, panting like he’s run a marathon, sweat beading at his temple, his heart beating so fast that he might go into cardiac arrest but fuck— if it wasn’t a good way to go.

Her thumb works over his dripping slit one last time, scraping an overstimulated whine from his throat, as her digits drag across his sensitive skin. 

But then— then Rook’s bringing her fingers up to her mouth, plush lips parting around them to savor the slick that coats them, a deep, pleased groan rumbling in her chest as his flavor floods her palate, as she laves her tongue around each digit, savoring the taste. 

John almost comes again at the sight.

“You taste like fuckin’ heaven, baby,” Rook murmurs, once she plucks her fingers out of her mouth with a pop, licking her lips at the traces of him that are left behind, not wanting to miss as much as a drop.

•

“Who did this to you, sweetheart?” Rook asks quietly, eyes staring intently at the letters carved into his chest - the line that runs through them - her thumb running along its path with a feather-light touch.

He’s shivering with a combination of touch-starvation and adoration, from the ginger caress and the sweet words, pouring like honey from her lips. 

“I did. I had to. S-sin must be exposed so that it may be absolved.” 

Rook shakes her head, twice, but it’s enough to convey that she doesn’t approve. 

Panic festers like an open-wound at the thought that she’s rejecting his body, disgusted by the sight.

But the anxiety dissipates as Rook softly explains, “You shouldn’t hurt yourself. Whatever you’ve done, whatever you think you’ve done, doesn’t warrant pain. Promise me that you won’t harm yourself again, that you won’t seek after pain, that you won’t look for solace in punishment.” 

He’s speechless.

“John?” 

“Y-yes. Yes! I promise, alpha. I give you my word. I am yours, I will not desecrate myself any further—“

Rook takes his face in her hands, effectively silencing him, peering into his eyes with such raw, intense emotion that they tear the breath from his lungs, the thoughts from his head, the words from his throat. 

“You are not desecrated, John. You‘re beautiful. You‘re perfect. I just... I don’t want to see you in pain. I don’t want you to suffer. Seeing these scars reminds me how I’ve failed you as your alpha.”

John opens his mouth immediately - to refute that statement, that she hadn’t failed him, that she’d saved him, that she’d put back the sharp, jagged, broken pieces from his childhood that he thought he’d shattered to the point of no return.

But then Rook’s tracing the swell of his bottom lip with her thumb, kissing him sweetly - delicately - and John decides that he’ll prove to her that she’s the alpha that’s more than he deserves, that she’s the alpha he prayed for, dreamt of, begged for every night, that she’s too good for him, but he is a selfish man and he’ll die before he lets her go because she’s everything that he’s wanted - needed, craved, loved - for decades. 

•

John comes with a howl when her fangs sink into his bared throat, marking him, claiming him, what he’d wanted for so long. 

Tears stream down his face, from the ecstasy of his release, from the bliss of their union, from the euphoria that he’d been claimed, he’d been marked, he’d been loved. 

He didn’t want to fall asleep after, terrified that she’d leave, even after she’d marked him.

But in the morning, when he wakes to the sunlight filtering through the blinds, their limbs are woven so intricately that it’d take hours to separate them, his face is buried in her throat, greedily drinking in her delicious scent, her steady pulse providing a peace he’d never known.

He kisses Rook’s pulse, his lips trailing down the elegant slope of her throat to the sharp edges of her collarbone, running along the flat planes with his tongue, quietly moans at the taste of Rook flooding his mouth.

“... John?” Had he been standing, his knees would’ve buckled from the thick, heady tone of her voice.

As it is, shivers roll down his spine, goosebumps bubbling across his skin, as he moves up, nibbling at her jaw.

“Don’t leave.” The words are quiet, but they’re desperate, a plea.

A calloused hand cups his cheek. 

John leans into the touch like a starved beggar, his breath hitching when the fingers slide down to his jaw, to his throat. 

He doesn’t need a mirror to know that she’s tracing her mark, her thumb dipping into the indents her fangs had left. 

“As long as you’ll have me, I’ll never leave your side, my beautiful omega.”

John seals this vow with a kiss - hard enough that someone’s lip split, the metallic taste of blood filling both of their mouths, but Rook just moans and tangles her fingers in his hair.

Faith— well, Rachel’s region has been liberated, as has Jacob’s, with the truce erected between him and Eli. 

The only piece of the puzzle left was Joseph.

But seeing as how ecstatic he was that his baby brother had found his mate...

John has a feeling that Joseph wouldn’t be particularly upset about this recent development.

Even if he is - Rook begins nosing her way down his throat, licking and sucking at the mark she’d left behind to show the world that he belongs to her, a whine broiling in his throat as she rolls her hips against his - John would fight it.

Three months ago, he’d found his alpha.

The mate that his parents had said would never want him, that his mate would rather fool around with betas or settle down with a real alpha, that his mate would laugh at the sight of him. 

Two months ago, his alpha said that she wanted him just as bad as he wanted her, but she couldn’t claim him because she wouldn’t risk his brothers accusing him of betrayal because she couldn’t keep her hormones under control. 

One month ago, his alpha promised to spare his family because she’d never break her omega’s heart, because she’d never forgive herself for shattering him when she’d just pieced him back together. 

Less than twenty-four hours ago, their bond was forged, her fangs baring down into his throat, and John was claimed. 

He had an alpha. 

An alpha who loved him, protected him, adored him. 

John would die before he lost that.

“I love you...” John whispers against her mouth, so quiet that there’s a chance she might not have heard it.

But then....

Then she’s brushing his disheveled locks out of his face, peering deeply into his beautiful oceanic eyes, and smiles beautifully.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Tears sting behind his eyes, the happiness bubbling in his chest, his heart hammering so hard that there’s a chance it might break his ribs, the sincerity and adoration in her voice, in her eyes, in her smile overwhelming him to the point of hiccuping sobs.

Rook doesn’t miss a beat, cradling his face in her calloused hands, brushing the tears away before they had the chance to fall, and kisses him with a tenderness that makes his chest ache in a deliciously masochistic way.

He kisses her back with a vigor and enthusiasm that he briefly thinks might be embarrassing and desperate, but she hums against his mouth - indulging in the unabashed passion - and gives as good as she gets.

Heaven.

This is heaven.

John has heard countless tales about The Gates of Eden, but this?

This right here?

There is no better place in this life or the next.

There is no better place in this life or the next than in his alpha’s arms.


End file.
